


of having lived

by nebulera



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulera/pseuds/nebulera
Summary: written forthis promptyay or nay
Relationships: Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	of having lived

Wolffe can hardly look at himself in the mirror. Even if he could see perfectly, he doesn’t think he could bear the sight of himself. His right eye is swollen horribly purple and he’s got bandages decorating his entire body. He splashes water gently across his cheeks, trying his best not to look at the mess and the failure that will look back at him.

This war has changed him. Abregado did—everyone knew just how Wolffe handled that, and his Jedi has. Is. He’s hardened, though he’s particular and _careful._ The thought of being careless with his troops, well, it’s unthinkable and unacceptable. The general treats them no differently than Wolffe, if anything with more reverence and the proper care of a Jedi, and that’s why after today’s mission gone horribly with loss numbers that made him dizzy, Wolffe can’t stand the thought of being made to command these men again. Abregado may have been some time ago, but it was still a fresh wound, one that Wolffe split open today.

Wolffe’s injuries are a product of his anger, his passion. He didn’t hold back with the other side, but his body paid the price. For once, his Jedi was the one to pull him back, to desperately reach for him and protect him, to plead for him to stop. Wolffe would have kept going, had Plo not begged him. He continued back to their frontlines and passed out in Plo’s arms.

He woke to a blurry picture of his mournful general back aboard the _Courageous,_ and he also woke in pain.

He had to look away when he realized Plo could feel it too. “Do you need to take something, Commander?”

Wolffe shook his head.

Plo hesitated. “I could—“

_Heal you. Spare your pain for a short while._ Neither of those Wolffe deserved, and he’d be damned if he took anything from his Jedi.

“No,” Wolffe said, and that was that.

Wolffe remains hunched over the sink from just washing his face, water beading down his bare chest until it’s cold. He stands there and doesn’t move. He doesn’t move when he hears the sound of the door sliding open across the room—he doesn't need to guess who it could be because Jedi Master Plo Koon is too stubborn to leave him be.

“You weren’t in my quarters,” Plo says. The sound of his voice strikes lightning in his heart. He steeples his fingers and watches Wolffe with concern in his eyes.

“No,” Wolffe admits. He turns his face away from his Jedi.

Plo is silent for a while. “If you wish me to leave you for tonight, I will.”

“Plo, I—“ he voice stops on a sob. He realizes with horror his cheeks are reddening and his face is bunching up. Tears bottle up behind his swollen eye and spill without his consent and his hands tremble. Humiliated, he straightens up and turns his back fully to the general. He rubs violently at his eye but it’s difficult and it hurts and he’s just making it worse but the tears won’t stop and neither will this crushing pain in his chest. 

He’s unsurprised when he feels Plo’s hands on him, pulling his away from his eye, but he still hisses, “Don’t touch me,” and “I’m disgusting,” when Plo does not listen and spins him around. “I’m filth,” Wolffe says, clutching at Plo’s robes like he’s a saint come to cure him.

“Don’t, Wolffe. Please don’t say such things.” He’s got a washcloth in his hand and Wolffe’s cheek in the other. He pats at Wolffe’s swollen eye with a gentleness he is undeserving of, his thumb caressing his skin. He wipes the cloth at the dampness under Wolffe’s eye. Wolffe just lets him while he holds Plo’s arms. Eventually his tears subside, and so does the pain at his swollen skin.

“Let me stay here with you?”

Wolffe’s answer isn’t instant. He knows Plo’s concern outweighs Wolffe’s supposed comfort. He knows because it’s the same way for Wolffe. He falls against Plo’s chest, his warmth, and nods. 

In bed, Plo has him wrapped up while he lays next to him. He’s balanced on an elbow above his head, looking down at him with a hand in his hair.

“Never say that again, Plo says, quietly.

Wolffe doesn’t understand at first, then curls further in on himself. “What I did today…”

“Should never have happened. It’s not your fault.”

“It is. These are my boys, my command. I wasn’t looking hard enough—“

“Neither was I. It was a ruse from the start.” Plo continues stroking his hair. “Oh, Wolffe. Look at me.”

He does. He looks straight up at him despite his blurry vision. Plo reaches down and rests one of his warm hands over Wolffe’s chest, his heart. “You have a beautiful heart, so much love to give. You don’t deserve this.” Plo passes his hand over Wolffe’s bandages. Wolffe turns into him closer until it’s like the pain is being lifted away, and all he feels is the utter closeness of the general and his warmth.

The thing is, he knows Plo will understand, but he wishes he didn’t. It hurts to live with.

“All will be well, my Wolffe,” Plo says, and he tries to believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this prompt](https://whumpster-dumpster.tumblr.com/post/631582418032263168/a-whumpee-with-a-black-eyes-starts-crying)
> 
> yay or nay


End file.
